Month: July 2014

As I hauled myself into bed last night and dropped down on the pillow, I thought I caught a whiff of your scent and started sniffing around frantically to see where it was coming from, even when I knew that it couldn’t have been because the sheet and pillowcases have been washed ever since. I think that when you miss a person, the thing that always pulls you down is the way they smell – not their perfume or body spray or the soap they use, but just the simple, genuine scent of their skin that no one else has – and I was missing you.

It was the first time that I made acquaintance with the term “Passive Suicidal Ideation.” What this means is that I’m not actively trying to kill myself, but if death comes, I would have been very happy to die.

Even though I said that things are getting easier, songs that speak our story like this one still tug violently at my heart and bring tears to my eyes. Despite my effort to keep my mind busy during the day so that it won’t wander into the rooms that I’ve carefully sealed away, I still dream about you every night. Brains are stupid.

Now that I think about it, a lot of the things you said post-break didn’t make sense. It was as if your words and actions were trying to prove two different, opposite points, and it got me thinking: Perhaps you were just looking for a way out. We loved, but I’m starting to realize that we couldn’t deny the fact that I wasn’t enough for you, so you made up all of these excuses to make yourself feel better about dropping the ball on me, about walking away from everything we had, about crushing the woman who set you free, who shared your plate, your bed, your bathtub, your life, your dreams; the only woman who had ever loved you the way you should be loved.